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I’m taken aback. “Why did you tell me a ten-minute story about it, then?”
“Babe, c’mon. It was a good story! It just didn’t end like I wanted, so I didn’t tell that part. I’m trying to keep things on the level, here.”
I squint at him for several seconds. “Daniel….”
“You ready for a massage?” He smiles at me coolly and then stands up. “Pay the tab and we’ll go out to my van. We can be more free there. Au naturel, if you want. I’ll need a box for my leftovers, though.”
“Pay the tab?” I sputter. “Are you serious?”
Daniel looks at me like I just said I’m from the moon. “Yeah, babe. Why do you think I asked for one check?”
My cheeks heat. “I am not paying for your meal. This was a first date. And not a very good one, I must admit.”
“Psh. Just wait until I get you naked and massage you. Most chicks love that. You’re so wound up. I can tell that you need to let off some steam, so to speak.”
It takes everything inside of me not to scream at this man. I smile, but step away from the table.
“I’m paying for my meal. You pay for yourself. I don’t think we are compatible, so I don’t see any reason to prolong the date.”
Like lightning, Daniel grabs me and pulls me into his arms. “Don’t go, babe. You’ll miss out on this.”
He tries to kiss me, but I turn my face away.
“Get OFF of me!”
I manage to shake Daniel off and he stands there, gawping at me like I’m the first girl who’s ever told him no.
“Are you serious?” he says.
“Yes!”
“You’re seriously harshing my mellow, sister. You need to get right with the universe,” he says, stabbing an accusatory finger in my direction.
The waitress sidles over, looking between us. “You all right, hon? You need anything?”
“I’m fine–,” I start.
“No!” Daniel cuts me off. “She’s paying!”
He halfway-sprints out the door as the waitress and I stare after him, open-mouthed.
“Well, I never,” the woman says.
Shame fills me. “That is the worst date I think I’ve ever had.”
“Is there anything I can do to make you feel better? A slice of cake on the house maybe?”
I shake my head, pulling out my rarely-used credit card. “Thanks, but I think I’ll just cover the bill.”
The waitress takes my card and leaves to run it. She comes back with the check presenter. I open it and my eyes bug out.
“Two hundred and seventy-two dollars??”
“Ah. Yeah, most of that’s from before you came in. Your friend was sitting at the bar since opening, chowing down and drinking top shelf liquor. I’m guessing from the look on your face that you didn’t know about that?”
“No,” I wheeze. “I can’t believe it!”
She nods. “We see a few of that type come in a year. A handsome beach bum with a first date he uses as a sugar mama. It’s a tale as old as time, really. I’m sorry that you crossed paths with one of them.”
